


Spend Some Time (Forever)

by bbluejoseph



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Betaed, Climbing, Early Days, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Internalized Homophobia, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Touring, Van Days, mild anxiety, slight angst, tyler climbs n it makes josh freak the fuck out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbluejoseph/pseuds/bbluejoseph
Summary: He must have gotten to the van somehow, because the next time Josh is fully awake, he's in the back with Tyler. Tyler's asleep, and his face is smashed into Josh's shoulder, and Josh thinks he could be in love, if that were something that were allowed.
Relationships: Josh Dun & Tyler Joseph, Josh Dun/Tyler Joseph
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	Spend Some Time (Forever)

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to bri and jet set for beta'ing for me!! i really appreciate it <3
> 
> title from island in the sun by weezer. extra thanks to hue (bewilderedghosts) for chatting w me about the song !

It all starts one afternoon when Tyler's had too many red bulls. 

He's so full of energy that he practically sets up their gear by himself. Josh helps, Mark and Michael help, but Tyler's moving so quick, so excited about the show they're playing soon, that he does more than his fair share. It's impressive.

Terrifying. It's also terrifying. Also cute, just a little, but Josh keeps that part to himself.

He avoids red bull for the day. He always tries to hold off drinking anything but water before their shows so the caffeine doesn't make him flip out, and besides, he's always too nervous to eat or drink much until after. He's feeling normal, or as normal as he gets in situations like this, with crowds of people watching him, judging the music, waiting for him to fail, and _oh Jesus_. 

He's feeling normal, but Tyler has had four red bulls this morning and he's bouncing off the walls before they even get onstage. Once the show starts he's electric, frantic almost. He jumps around more than usual, shakes his head roughly during their more intense songs. He's sweating so heavily in the midwestern sun that Josh is starting to worry he might go into cardiac arrest.

He's smiling, at least, and it seems genuine. Hard to tell when you're trying not to drop your drumsticks.

When the set reaches their newest song, Tyler seems to hit an all-time high. Before Josh or anyone else can stop him, he's dashed across the stage and started climbing the huge stage lights. This time Josh _does_ drop a drumstick, but thankfully the drums aren't too fast at this part and he's able to grab another without much of a fuss. The crowd is surprised, too; he can see the awe in their faces, hear the tentative but growing cheers as Tyler climbs higher. 

Tyler climbs high, way too high in Josh's eyes, and his stomach rolls. He has to bite down on his lip hard to keep himself from shouting, throwing up, whatever. They have to finish the set. He can't let the crowd down.

Tyler stops just short of the stage lights. His nimble frame is clinging to one bar, legs hooked just so that he can let go with one hand and hold his microphone to his face. 

He sings like nothing is out of the ordinary. Like he's done this a million times, no problem. Like he'll do it a million more times. Josh isn't sure he can handle that.

The crowd gets into it, with even a few people joining from the passerby making their way through the festival. By some fucking miracle, Josh keeps drumming. He doesn't take his eyes of Tyler once.

When the song ends, Tyler scrambles back down, and a wave of relief finally crashes over Josh when both of Tyler's flower-print sneakers are safely on the ground. He looks steadier; still energized but more in control, and his smile is infectious. Despite the stress at the back of Josh's throat, he smiles too.

 _Thank Christ,_ Tyler stays behind his piano for the rest of the show.

*

After, there's not much of a chance for them to discuss it. They have to pack up their gear, talk to anyone in the crowd who wants to meet them, sell some merch if they can. This takes unnecessarily long, mostly because Tyler wants to have a profound, in-depth conversation with every fan who expresses an interest. 

At least four people bring up the climbing. "I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that," says one with a chuckle. "Impressive how fast you got up there," another adds. "Never seen anything like that before," gushes another. And so on. They all liked it, and despite the positive connotations, Josh is worried.

After everything is done, finally, and they're crammed in the van, it's quiet for a few minutes. Michael is driving; he seems steady, calm, but Mark is clearly a little pissed off. Well, he's clearly a little _something_. It's hard to tell exactly what. He pointedly stares at the glove compartment, a miffed sort of look on his face.

"Good show," Tyler says finally. Josh flicks his eyes from the world outside the van to the world inside it. He thinks Tyler might be the world, sometimes. He's the world of this band, at the very least. Josh knows he himself plays an important part, and they couldn't do it without Michael or Mark, but Tyler is the sun in the middle of their solar system, the puzzle piece without which the rest of them would fail to connect.

Tyler's smile is broad, smug. When he catches Josh's eye, he raises one eyebrow, as if daring him to say anything. Josh tries to scowl at him, but he feels his face heat up, and he goes back to watching the grass on the side of the freeway. He'd never admit it, but he likes when Tyler gets all cocky. _Fucking smartass._

"You could say that," Michael says coolly.

Mark immediately bursts the relative peace of the drive. "What the hell were you thinking?! We could have gotten in so much fucking trouble, Tyler! You can't just climb shit, the stage doesn't belong to us. If you'd broken something or whatever they'd make us pay for it."

"That's a funny way of saying 'thank you'," Tyler quips cheerfully. Josh is unable to repress a snort of laughter.

Mark sighs deeply, rubs at one eye. "And _why_ in God's green earth would I do that?"

"The crowd _loved_ it."

A brief silence; nobody tries to deny him. Then, "Fine. Sure, they liked it. But I bet you wouldn't like it if you had to fork over a couple hundred bucks to fix some _fucking stage lights_. Or if they banned us for life," Mark adds, though that seems like a bit of an exaggeration to Josh. 

Tyler's caffeine rush seems to have burned off, for the most part, but Josh can see a gleam of excitement in his eyes, a look that isn't fueled by red bull. "They loved it. Michael, how many CDs did we sell?"

Michael considers this for a moment. Mark always runs the merch booth; Josh knows he's asking Michael to say it to make a point. "Four. Four CDs and two t-shirts."

Tyler smirks. He doesn't say anything out loud, but he nudges one of Josh's shoes with his own. _Four CDs and two t-shirts,_ the nudge says. Josh is trying very hard not to smile.

Nobody says anything for a few minutes. There's only the sun starting to go down in front of them, the road skimming beneath them like a stream, the rumble of the engine and the warm feeling in Josh's chest that he can't seem to get rid of.

"Fine." Mark sounds defeated, but he looks far less pissed off now. "Just don't do it again."

Josh doubts Tyler can hear him.

*

The mood is mostly back to normal by the time they stop for the night. They don't have to be at their next show until tomorrow afternoon, so nobody has to pull a dreaded all-nighter so they can get there in time. All-nighters are bad for everyone. 

Tonight, Mark sleeps in the front seat, because, despite his resistance to the subject, he's the smallest of the group and he can wedge himself in easiest. Michael takes the trailer the van pulls, mostly because he talks in his sleep and it keeps everyone else awake. And of course, there's the mattress in the back of the van.

There's the mattress in the back of the van, and there's Josh, and there's Tyler. There's _Tyler,_ there, laying next to Josh in the hushed too-warm air of the van, parked on the side of the road. He's such a quiet sleeper that Josh has trouble telling whether he's actually asleep or he's just laying there thinking. Tyler does a lot of thinking when he can't sleep; sometimes good, sometimes bad, and Josh likes to check in if he thinks it could be the latter. 

Tyler doesn't talk in his sleep or flail around or hog the covers (mostly). The only noise he makes is when Josh has to wake him up in the morning, because it's Tyler's turn to drive and Josh desperately needs a coffee if he's planning on staying awake much longer. When this happens, Tyler keeps his face smashed into his pillow, sleepy, and hums a low, content sound in the back of his throat. It makes Josh's heart ache in all the right ways.

Sometimes they cuddle at night, if it's cold, or if one of them has had a rough day.

Neither of them has had a rough day today, but Josh wants to be close to Tyler more than usual. So, once it's still and mostly quiet in the van, save for Mark's snoring in the front seat, Josh shifts to Tyler's side.

It's dark, so he can't see, doesn't even know if Tyler is still awake, but then the blankets move. Tyler tosses his arm over Josh's middle, nestling close, and Josh is so damn cozy he thinks he could purr like a kitten.

"Y'alright?" comes Tyler's voice, a faint rasp in the silence.

Josh lets out a content little huff, burrows into the mattress. "Yeah. Just cold."

It's not cold that night. Tyler doesn't argue with him.

*

Morning comes, as it always does, dragging its feet into the noontime before settling more steadily into the afternoon. They have a show at a music fair today; it's not a big event but that's just fine with Josh.

There's the faintest of familiar worries in the bottom of Josh's stomach, gnawing at him. Not pre-show jitters, no; Josh knows those like the back of his hand. It isn't until after the show starts, until it's time for Car Radio, that Josh realizes what's bothering him.

Tyler climbs again. The trusses of the stage aren't so high this time, but that doesn't do much to relieve Josh's distress. The crowd cheers when it sees him go up; a few passerby stop to watch.

Josh is glad he's been practicing Car Radio in particular, because when Tyler's gaze sweeps over the crowd, it settles back on the stage, back on Josh, and suddenly he forgets how to breathe on his own. Tyler's practically _glowing_ with happiness; even with the ski mask on, the light in his eyes is bright and clear and alive. Josh's stomach untangles itself, then twists in the opposite direction.

It must only last for a second, because then Tyler's looking out over the crowd again and Josh is on autopilot. It's not that Tyler's unhappy, at least most of the time, but this is more than happiness. This is joy. This is a man in his element, doing what he loves, and he's choosing to do it with Josh. 

He doesn't need to look at the merch table to know Mark is pissed.

Maybe, though, it doesn't matter, because the crowd loves it, and Tyler loves it, so Josh loves it too. Even if it _freaks him the fuck out._

*

"We're never getting invited to this place ever again," Mark hisses through his teeth as soon as they get offstage. Michael looks like he's trying not to laugh; Josh would be doing the same if he weren't so shaken. 

Not fully shaken, not shattered or anything like that, but spooked, like when you miss a step when going down the stairs. Seeing Tyler up there like that, he's pretty sure now, is what does it to him. He knows Tyler is perfectly capable of looking after himself, he just worries about his _best friend,_ is all. Anxiety is a pain in the ass that way; logic doesn't really help soothe his nerves.

Seeing Tyler, here, with both feet on the ground, does soothe his nerves. Josh is tempted to hug him then and there, but he doesn't.

It's not that high. It's too high.

Tyler's smiling, crooked, bright, and Josh knows all he can see is the crowd waiting to meet them, to talk with them. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You can't just climb shit like that!" Mark protests. "Seriously, Tyler."

"Seriously, Mark." Tyler's eyes focus properly, and he drops his smile, though he keeps his tone light. "I talked with the chick that helped us set up the lights and she said it was fine."

Mark huffs. "She's not in charge of the entire show. Just the lights. We could still get kicked out by her bosses."

"You saw them, though. The fans. They like it when I climb, and I like it too." Tyler turns to face Josh, and Josh feels like he's been hit. Tyler is pretty. Like, _stupid_ pretty. He's sweaty from the show and his hair's sticking up at all angles from the ski mask and his bottom lip has the tiniest cut on it, probably from the lid of the red bull he was chugging before the show. He's pretty and Josh has known for a while, kept it tucked away somewhere in his brain, but with the climbing and the nerves and the absolutely gorgeous Tyler standing here in front of him, it's impossible to ignore.

"Josh saw it, too. Didn't you, Josh?" 

Who's Josh? What's Tyler talking about again? He blinks once, twice, trying to clear his head. It's just the anxiety from watching Tyler climb. _Obviously._

"Yeah," he makes out. "Uh, yeah, I saw it."

Tyler smiles, and oh no, _oh no_. Josh isn't supposed to like Tyler like this, but he's realizing in these precarious, infinite seconds that he _does_ , and he has the fucking chick who helped set up the lights to thank. She told Tyler he could climb, and Tyler climbed, and Josh watched him like he couldn't stop watching him, not even if he wanted to. It scares him, yeah, when Tyler climbs. But it's so wholly Tyler that he can't help liking it.

Tyler turns his attention back to Mark, and Josh can breathe again.

Mark doesn't say anything for a few seconds, probably wondering how quickly Tyler and Josh will be able to replace him once he quits. At last he turns away, tossing his hands in the air in frustration. "Fine! Fine. Just let me handle it, alright? Leave the talking to me."

"Happy to," Tyler chirps. Josh practically jumps out of his shoes when Tyler grabs his hand, pulling him across the grass towards the merch table. "Come on, Josh, they're waiting for us!"

Josh has seen a million shows, even held Tyler's hand a million times. But somehow, now, it's different.

*

In the end, they're not banned, everything's fine, and Mark's gonna handle all the climbing talk from now on. Tyler is under strict orders not to climb unless Mark's okayed it with the management because, in Mark's words, "If we get sued, we're fucked".

Tyler seems alright with that, though. Their next show is earlier in the day, so they have to push harder than usual to get everything set up. Josh makes sure nobody chugs a ton of red bull beforehand, even though they could probably use it. A few minutes before they're set to go on, he overhears Mark tell Tyler he's ok to climb, and Josh's stomach twists.

It goes fine, though, just like it has before. Josh doesn't know what his anxiety thinks watching Tyler climb is going to do, but it's steadfast and instinctive. It's not like he could hop over his drums, run over, and catch Tyler, if he were to fall. Josh doesn't have that good of a response time, and it would happen so quickly that probably nobody would have a chance.

It doesn't matter. He chews on his bottom lip, nervous, until Tyler's back on the ground.

After the show, at the merch table, Josh sits in one of the stupid metal folding chairs and watches, quiet, as Tyler talks with some girl from the crowd. Tyler's always been the talker, always been the one people want to talk to. That's just fine with Josh; the few times a fan tries to engage with him, he stumbles over his words, tries to say something smart only to sound dumb. 

He likes listening to Tyler. Tyler's voice is soothing, sweet and a little awkward and pleasing to the ear. The way he talks, too, the way his mind works, mending all his broken thoughts together? Josh loves it. He could listen to Tyler talk all day.

His chair is up close to Tyler's, in part because the merch table isn't very big but mostly because he wants to be there. He's tired from the show, tired from performing and worrying about Tyler and sleeping on a shitty mattress in the back of a shitty van. Josh is leaning his head on Tyler's shoulder before he knows it.

Tyler just keeps chatting with the fan, who buys a CD for herself and one as a birthday present for a friend. "This kind of music is right up her alley," the fan says. Her sunglasses are pushed up onto the top of her head. "You're really talented."

He can hear the smile in Tyler's voice when he thanks her, and after a few more compliments the girl leaves. She's the last one here for them; another band is playing now, and it's time for Twenty One Pilots to properly pack up.

Abruptly, Tyler musses Josh's hair. "Hey, you still awake?"

Josh huffs and sits up properly in his chair. "I am now."

Tyler just smiles and says, "Didn't sleep well last night?"

"Nah, just tired from the show." Josh stands up, stretches, and folds up the chair he was sitting on. Tyler does the same, and together the two of them start to pack things up. 

He wants to mention Car Radio to Tyler. He wants to confront him, gently, make him promise to be careful when he climbs because he can't bear to see him get hurt. He wants to confess, giving, afraid of everything he's coming to realize about his feelings. He does none of this.

*

Josh has been hoping they'd have a hotel night, but no such luck. Almost all of their shows are performed for free; the only money they make is from merch, if people buy any. It's cheaper, in every sense of the term, to park on the side of some turnout and sleep. 

It's different every time: loud, quiet, clean, filthy. They've been places that smell like freshly mowed grass and places that smell like rotten garbage and places that smell like car exhaust. They've slept through clear weather, fog, rain, and even a sprinkling of snow once. No two turnouts are alike and there's no way to know what to expect. It's not that Josh isn't grateful for a place to stop and rest--it's certainly better than an all-nighter--but it can be hard to sleep in distracting environments. 

One night, Mark pulls the van over on a turnout near a thick stretch of woods. Josh knows it's reasonably safe, probably safer than when they pull over near the city, but he's a little on edge. He's been laying there for fifteen minutes when he hears the scream.

He sits up fast, clutching the blanket hard. He speaks urgently, but quietly, so as not to alert whatever's out there. "Tyler wake up."

A faint sigh from Tyler, a shuffling of the blanket.

"Tyler wake up," he repeats stiffly. He's afraid to move.

"'M awake," Tyler mumbles. He reaches out blindly, loosely. His hand brushes near the small of Josh's back, and despite himself, Josh feels his face get hot.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The scream comes again, same as before, but it's just as startling. Josh's jaw is clenched. They're all going to get eaten by some wild animal, and it's all Mark's fault for refusing to drive any further. Just a couple more miles and they would've hit some sort of town, right? They could've parked outside of a Denny's and slept well and maybe even had pancakes in the morning. But _no,_ they're getting mauled instead. 

"That?" comes Tyler's sleepy voice. 

Josh nods rapidly. "Yeah. Yeah, that."

In the front seat, he hears Mark stir, his snoring briefly paused, before it resumes.

Tyler's fingernails scratch loosely at Josh's back. "It's just an owl. C'mere, you're too far away."

Josh is hardly reassured, but he slowly lays back down. Some of the tension in his jaw ebbs away when Tyler tosses an arm around him, pulls him into a half hug.

"How do you know?" Josh whispers.

"Grew up by the creek, remember?" Tyler pulls the blanket up a bit. "Lots of wild stuff in there. 'S probably a screech owl. They're real loud."

They're both quiet for a while after that. The owl screeches for a third time and- okay, yeah, it is an owl. Josh feels silly for being so scared, but he's grateful for the arm wrapped around him, for the faint hum in the back of Tyler's throat, low and soothing. 

They're both quiet, they both fall asleep, and when morning finally comes, they both pretend it never happened.

*

The next show goes great, even better than usual. This place has a lot of stage supports for Tyler to climb, and climb them he does. Once during car radio, then again about halfway through the show, just before Holding Onto You. He tries not to talk too much between songs, Josh can tell, but he wants to.

The crowd cheers as he climbs and, once he settles neatly up there, perched like some sort of slender, proud bird, he takes his ski mask off and throws it onto the stage in front of him. "It means everything to me," he says into the mic, "to me and Josh, for you to share these moments with us. For you to support us. So thank you."

More cheering, and they launch into Holding Onto You, and Josh is just as nervous about Tyler's climbing as before, but there's an undeniable joy, a thrill, at who they are and who they could become. Maybe there's only a few dozen people here, maybe they aren't getting paid, but there's no doubt in Josh's mind that it's worthwhile.

They're at a county fair this time. They have a good group to talk to afterwards, people who stay because they liked what they saw rather than out of politeness. A few choose to talk at length with Josh, offering praise and pointing out which parts of the show they liked. 

Josh somehow even finds himself in an in-depth conversation with one girl. Turns out she's a drummer trying to start a band of her own, and she's interested in Josh's style. They talk for some time, about drumming and performing and all the traveling in between. 

After a while, Tyler leans halfway out of his chair, just to hook his chin over Josh's shoulder. Josh is aware of how red his face must be, wishes he was somewhere else, but stops talking mid-sentence.

"Hate to interrupt," Tyler hums, "but we got a band meeting in a few minutes."

Josh can feel Tyler's breath on his neck. "We do?"

The girl laughs, brushes off Tyler's possessiveness; if that's what it is. Josh half hopes so. "Yeah, I gotta be going too."

"I'll check out your band on Twitter," Josh says as she puts her phone in her pocket. If her taste in music is anything to go by, her band is just the kind of thing Josh could get into.

"And I'll check out yours," the girl promises with a smile.

Tyler tilts his head to one side as the girl leaves, bumping it gently against Josh's. "Hey."

This is stupid. Josh is _stupid,_ for not realizing what these feelings were before. Tyler's been such an important part of his life for so long that it feels natural, feels comfortable, when they're together like this. The shyness, the blushing? It's all because of his awareness; if he didn't know he liked Tyler like that, he wouldn't hesitate at all to lean back into him. Needless to say, there's a lot on his mind.

"Hey," Josh says. _God,_ he doesn't sound weird, does he? He's overthinking all of this. It's just Tyler. It's just _Tyler_. Jesus. "Didn't know we had a band meeting?"

Tyler finally, finally, sits back in his own chair. "We don't. 'M just hungry. Thought we could wander around the fairgrounds 'til we find somethin' that smells good."

"Don't we have to pack up the merch table?"

"Michael can do it. He owes me a favor, anyway." Tyler stands up, brushes off his jeans. "How 'bout it?"

Josh shakes his head, but he's already standing up. He didn't realize he was so hungry before. "Our moms would kill us. The only thing fairs have is, like, fried butter on a stick."

Tyler laughs, links his arm with Josh's. "We're big kids now. Or at least, I am, and I want some goddamn deep-fried butter."

He snorts, face warm again. "Cursing, too? Can't wait to tell your mom about this one."

"Funny."

*

They end up getting corn dogs, which last all of three bites. It's definitely the most unhealthy thing Josh has eaten on tour--which is saying a lot, because they're not exactly chowing down on broccoli or something every night. For a few seconds, Josh imagines them going back to the van after every show, with Michael in a pink apron, standing over a stove, steaming some vegetables. It's a terrible image and he's glad when it disappears.

There's a lemonade stand not far from the corn dog stand. It's shaped like a giant lemon, which Tyler finds extremely funny. He makes Josh take a picture of him in front of it, and, he has to admit, it is a good photo. The lemon is so bright yellow that it makes Tyler look like a shadow in his darker clothes. He's squinting, because the sun's going down and the light's becoming this honey gold color that makes Josh nostalgic. And he's smiling. God, Tyler's _smiling._ It's such a small thing, the act of a smile, but every time, it manages to make Josh's heart sputter like the van's engine.

It feels weird to take a picture with the lemonade stand if they're not buying anything, so they get two frozen lemonades. The girl behind the counter clearly doesn't speak English well, but Tyler tells her to keep the change as thanks for the picture, and she smiles real big. Josh is silently aware that it doesn't spark anything in him like Tyler's does. Privately, he's glad it doesn't.

They still have a little while before they have to get going, so Tyler and Josh sit in the grass not far from the van and drink their lemonades. This, Josh is beginning to realize, is what he wants to do forever. He wants to travel the world, play music, eat garbage food, and sit on the patchiest crab grass he can find. And he wants to do it with Tyler by his side.

The whole concept makes him a little nervous, but in a good way.

Tyler stops drinking his lemonade abruptly, sets it on the grass. "Can I ramble for a second?"

The liquid in Josh's drink is mostly gone now, leaving tiny pieces of lemon-flavored ice at the bottom of his cup. "Mm-hmm."

"I love doing this." The worlds spill from Tyler's mouth like water from a broken dam. "I love playing music and I love traveling and I love this shitty lemonade."

Josh pointedly takes a loud sip. "I thought it was pretty good."

"Don't interrupt, I'm not finished." A smile has snuck its way onto Tyler's face again. "I love doing all of this, y'know? We're not famous, we're not selling out shows, but I think this is the happiest I've ever been." A pause. "It's different than it was with Nick and Chris. I think they kind of hated shows. It's a lot of pressure, and it stressed them out, I guess. It stresses me out, too, but I think it's worth it."

Josh nods a little, encouraging him to go on. 

"It's different now. It's not just about putting on a show anymore." Tyler pauses; Josh can practically see the gears turning in his head, trying to put his thoughts together. "I'm trying to say thank you, I guess, I just don't know how."

"Thank you?" Josh blinks. "What for?"

"For dropping everything to do this with me. For being here, as my drummer and my friend." Tyler's eyes are focused on the grass, one hand pulling at it absent-mindedly, so Josh is surprised when his other hand comes to rest on Josh's knee. "I wouldn't want to do this with anyone else."

A pleasant ache swallows Josh's heart. His cup is forgotten in the grass. "You don't have to."

The van door slams, and they both jump. Mark's in the front passenger seat, rolling down the window. "Hate to interrupt whatever's going on out there, but we've got to hit the road." He points threateningly at Tyler. "And it's your turn to drive."

"Fine with me," Tyler says, and he stands up, and the moment is pulled apart like a cobweb. "'Least you can't be a backseat driver if you're in the front."

Josh's breath feels weird in his lungs, but he gets up and follows Tyler to the van. Nothing happened; he wishes something had.

*

Another day, another show. This one's small, but just big enough for Tyler to climb. Watching him scale the trusses, between songs, Josh drums mindlessly. It's a droning sort of sound, no real rhythm to it, but Tyler says it adds to the whole thing, and he can't really argue with him.

Fervently, Josh tries to think of anything extra they could do to keep Tyler safe. The first thing his brain lands on is wrapping him in bubble wrap, or insulation or something, but he knows that's dumb before he's even finished the thought. A parachute wouldn't work, either. 

Maybe they could drag the mattress out of the back of the van, and he could land on it if he fell? He doesn't know if that would prevent him from breaking any bones. He watches Tyler climb, considering. Tyler's always been kind of bony. His shirt is gone, left on the stage by his microphone stand. It's warm tonight, and Josh would like to take his off, too, but he's insecure about it, even though he knows nobody cares.

Nobody cares because they're all watching Tyler, the crowd and Mark and Michael and Josh, fixated. His shirt is gone, and then partway up the rafters he pulls his ski mask off. His hair is sticking up at odd angles, and his lean frame looks _a lot prettier_ than it should. If Josh wasn't warm before, he is now.

One of Tyler's feet slips slightly on a bar, and his heart stops.

Tyler himself doesn't seem at all fazed. He sits neatly, tosses his ski mask onto the stage, and glances to Josh for a second. Abruptly, Josh remembers _oh yeah,_ he's supposed to be performing. He forces himself to stare at his drums instead.

For the rest of the show, he throws himself into the drums harder than usual. It's not anger, nor joy, which drives him tonight. It's embarrassment.

*

There's no carnival food at their disposal tonight, so they drive to Safeway after the show's over. Josh is quiet, the air between him and Tyler almost awkward, at least on his end. Tyler seems extra chatty, discussing the performance at length, so he possibly hasn't noticed.

Traveling is weird. Every town they stop in, Josh is aware, is somebody's home, lots of somebodies' homes. There are grocery stores and antique shops and fast food places that these people know like they know their own names, so familiar they navigate them without any problems. Josh, meanwhile, feels alienated here, in this crowded Safeway, even though it's like every other Safeway he's ever been to. It is, and it isn't. Tyler would know how to explain it.

Josh is trailing along behind the others, Mark and Michael arguing about something meaningless, when Tyler slows down, just a little, just enough to walk beside him. Josh keeps his eyes on the floor, shiny enough to reflect the lights in the ceiling. If he doesn't think about it, this is all there is. Just the shiny floor tiles and his black Nikes and Tyler's floral patterned sneakers. 

"Y'okay?" Tyler finally asks. His elbow nudges Josh's, and he finally looks up; Tyler's hands are stuffed in the pocket of his hoodie, which, now that Josh is paying attention, is actually his hoodie. It's one size too big, and the hoodie strings are tied in a neat little bow. Maybe if he wasn't so cute Josh would play better. 

"Yeah. Just, um." He cuts himself off.

Tyler slows even further, letting Michael and Mark go on without them, and he gently clutches the sleeve of Josh's hoodie. "Just what?"

 _You're pretty,_ Josh wants to say. _You're so pretty I almost messed up the show. Every time you climb I'm terrified you're going to fall and break every bone in your goddamn body. Being on tour like this with you is the best decision I ever made and I never want it to end._

"Um," Josh says instead. "You slipped earlier."

Tyler's concerned look fades. "Oh, that. I barely slipped, though. Still had both hands and one leg on the rafters."

"I know, yeah." Josh holds his breath for a moment. "Just, like. Don't fall, okay?"

A broad smile forms on Tyler's face. He reaches out and tugs on one string of Josh's hoodie, the one that's too short on one side, and Josh's heart stutters. "I won't. And if I do, I'll aim for Michael so he can break my fall."

"Very funny," Michael deadpans. Josh hadn't even heard him walk up. "Which kind of Doritos do you guys like again?"

Tyler lets go of Josh's string. "Cool ranch," he says, and he looks at Josh for just a moment longer before turning away.

*

Two bags of Doritos, a bag of Hershey's kisses, a thing of root beer, some Clif bars that only Michael will even _consider_ eating, and a box of Ritz crackers. A thing of fruit cups, too, at Michael's insistence, so they don't "get scurvy".

"Do you even know what scurvy is?" Mark counters. They're barely out of the store and he's already into the crackers.

"Yes." Michael scowls. "Wait, is that the one where your teeth fall out or you shit yourself to death?"

Josh can't hold back his laughter, so he doesn't try, and Tyler joins him, the awkward air between them cleared at last. Mark just sighs and puts his head in his hands. 

They end up at a park down the street, although it could barely be considered one, in Josh's opinion; the 'grass' is mostly dandelions, there aren't any picnic benches, and there aren't any trees. Most of the playground equipment is roped off with caution tape, clearly in a state of disrepair. Josh doesn't even want to _think_ about what the bathroom is like.

It's dumb, but they all sit together in the grass and eat the junk food they bought. Mark makes sure nobody takes more than their fair share, and Michael makes everyone at least nibble at their fruit cups, though none of them are happy about it.

"You're such a grandma," Tyler complains, mouth full of fruit. Josh doesn't even know what kind of fruit it is. Peach? Pear?

"If I gotta be the grandma of this family to keep you guys from dropping dead, then toss me some knitting needles," Michael says cheerfully, and Josh snorts.

"If we're a standard family," Tyler says matter-of-factly, "then I'm the mom." He smiles, clearly pleased with himself, while Mark rolls his eyes.

"Josh is the dad," he adds after a short pause. "He'd be the kind of dad who'd let his kids have chocolate for breakfast because 'mom always lets us do it'."

Josh flips him off, and Tyler grins in reply.

"What about me?" Mark pipes up.

Tyler squints at him, thoughtful, before deciding. "You're the dog."

Everyone laughs while Mark pretends to be mad, and it's good. Everything in this shitty, shitty park is good somehow. 

They can't stay for too long, though; they've got another show to start moving towards. Josh volunteers to throw the trash away, and he adds a plastic bottle he finds on the ground on the way. Maybe it's not much, but it's more than nothing.

Michael and Mark are in the van when he gets back; Josh is glad it's not his turn to drive. He starts to climb into the backseat, but Mark stops him. "Can you go hurry Tyler along? We gotta get going soon."

Josh pauses. "Where is he?"

"Water fountain. He's on the phone, I think." 

So Josh goes to look for him, and he looks, and he finds him where Mark said he'd be. He's supposed to tell him they have to go, but somehow he can't. Tyler's sitting in the grass, phone clutched to his ear, hood pulled down to reveal his messy hair. Josh starts to turn back towards the van, to give him some privacy, but when Tyler sees him he smiles and beckons him over.

So Josh goes to him, and sits with him in the grass, because he's a sucker for Tyler and he always has been. Tyler must be a sucker for him too, or at least he likes having him around, because when Josh lays down on the grass, just because he can, Tyler says "You can put your head in my lap if you want."

And Josh wants. _God,_ he always does.

Tyler's lap is warm. Josh looks up at the sky, where the stars should be, except the smog of the city is hiding them from him. Tyler's fingers find Josh's hair without a moment's pause, and Josh starts before relaxing into it. He hopes Mark and Michael don't come for them. He hopes they decide to start their own band and leave him and Tyler here, and they get to stay forever.

He can hear the voice on the other end of the phone, feminine, but otherwise indiscernible. Tyler listens for a second, flicks his eyes down to meet Josh's, and he smiles like they're sharing a secret. He curls a piece of Josh's hair around his finger; Josh has to repress a noise in the back of his throat. Tyler looks so pretty, it's just not _fair._

"It's just Josh," he says, then holds the phone close to Josh's face for a moment. "It's my mom. Say hi, Josh."

"Hi, Josh," he says, and Tyler scoffs before taking the phone back.

Josh thinks he could fall asleep here, maybe, if he could let go of himself for just a few seconds. He wants to cling to this moment of casual intimacy for as long as he can. If that's what it is.

So he lays there, quiet and sleepy and happy, feeling Tyler's hand in his hair and listening to him talk on the phone in a soft voice, until he's too tired to stay awake. Then he can't feel or hear anything at all.

*

He must have gotten to the van somehow, because the next time Josh is fully awake, he's in the back with Tyler. Tyler's asleep, and his face is smashed into Josh's shoulder, and Josh thinks he could be in love, if that were something that were allowed.

*

Road, show, road again. That's what tour is. Tour is traveling, mostly, enough to make Josh's legs cramp and ache from sitting too long. Whenever he's not driving, he looks out the window and counts cows and stop signs and gas stations, to keep himself from thinking. 

He can keep his mind busy in the van, and during shows, but at night he falters. At night, with only the darkness to look at, Josh's mind fills with Tyler instead. Stupid, pretty Tyler with his dark eyelashes and his little voice cracks and the smile he seems to save just for Josh. His heart aches and it breaks and it's wonderful. 

At night, Josh convinces himself that he can have Tyler, that any of this is good, and that Tyler wants to have him, too. He pretends the arms around him are out of love and not the weather growing colder, and he tells Tyler he loves him without saying it. 

It isn't enough.

*

They're getting paid.

For _real,_ this time. This one's more than their usual shows, maybe their biggest show yet: a festival full of bands like them, bands from every corner of Ohio. 

Josh knows the two hundred people out there aren't there for Twenty One Pilots, at least not all of them, but his anxiety doesn't seem to understand. All day he feels out of breath, no matter how deeply he breathes or slowly he moves. His hands shake anytime they're not shoved in his pockets, and he chews on the inside of his cheek until it's raw, but for better or worse, they're getting paid, and that means it's a hotel night.

 _Thank God_ for that, because with the adrenaline breeding in Josh's blood, he's gonna crash hard after it's all over.

He knows Tyler will, too; not because of anxiety, but because he's had three red bulls since noon. They go on at two.

As the clock ticks down, as Mark tells them they have five minutes to showtime, Tyler is pacing back and forth, energized, awake, like he's been waiting his whole life for this; maybe he has. Josh wants to pace too, an itch building below his skin that he can't seem to shake off, but he doesn't want to let on how stressed he is. He knows if Tyler thought he was breaking, he'd pull him aside, gentle, ask him if he was doing alright and tell him they didn't have to go on if he wasn't ready, and then Josh would burst into tears and he really, _really_ doesn't want to do that. 

He _wants_ to do this. He wants to play the show.

Josh wants to play the show, but his anxiety is choking him and he needs a lifeline, so when Tyler paces past him once again, Josh grabs his hand.

Tyler takes the hint and stops pacing. Josh is sitting on a little bench behind the stage while Mark and Michael and a couple volunteers do last minute stage work. Tyler sits on the bench without prompting. 

"Hey," Tyler says, and he's quiet, but his whole face is glowing like he wants to shout from the rooftops. "You okay?"

Josh inhales, exhales carefully. "Yeah. Anxious. But I really want to do this," he adds quickly.

The joy in Tyler's face darkens; no, it lightens, becomes less of a supernova and more like a gentle sort of sunbeam that makes Josh's hands stop shaking. "Why didn't y' say something? Would've sat with you ages ago." 

Josh doesn't reply, just looking down to stare at his shoes, but he squeezes Tyler's hand. They sit there without talking until Mark tells them it's time to start the show.

And start the show they do. They've been here most of the day, just hanging around and listening to the other bands play while they waited their turn, and some of them were really good; but none of them were _Twenty One Pilots._

Tyler is a maniac onstage, spastic, frantic, and the crowd loves it. It takes all of Josh's concentration not just to play the drums, but to channel his anxiety into it, to throw all of the adrenaline his body has been making into something productive. His skin sweats, his muscles burn, and it's not just cathartic, it's _euphoric._

He's so into the music that he almost forgets about Car Radio. 

Almost forgets until he hears the crowd whoop and looks up to see Tyler scaling the stage supports. He's like a fucking _spider monkey_ or something, because Josh could swear that he blinks once, and Tyler goes from the stage to the top of the trusses.

This stage isn't some little thing, no. It's huge, bigger than their last hotel room, bigger than Josh's backyard at home, bigger than the sky. It's taller than the sky, too, because when Josh looks up to see Tyler standing there on top of the rafters, holding onto nothing at all, his jaw drops.

This stage is sturdier, more equipped to handle a little climbing and roughhousing, but that doesn't stop Josh's heart from dropping into his stomach. He watches, unable to breathe, as Tyler crouches up there, rips off his ski mask, tosses it into the crowd to never be seen again. 

He looks like an angel up there. Not a cherub, _no,_ not soft or delicate. Tyler looks crude and proud as the angels of the Old Testament, gaze like cold steel, the might of God's wrath at his fingertips. The wave of arousal and anxiety that washes over Josh in that moment is so powerful that if he were standing up he would've fallen on his ass. _Jesus Christ._

It's higher than Tyler's ever been, higher than Josh has ever seen him, and he's supposed to play their next song, to drum like his head and his heart are screwed on straight. It's an impossible task.

It's an impossible task, but Josh gives it everything he has. It's all he can do.

*

Once it's all over, once they're at the merch table with Mark and Michael and the crowd, Josh can't keep his hands off him. He leans into Tyler, hooks his chin over his shoulder, holds Tyler's hand; he even grabs at the sleeve of Tyler's hoodie a couple of times, filled with emotion, wanting all the attention he's afraid to ask for.

The crowd is like a sea, surging, always changing. A wave washes in another group who want to talk, then pulls them back out before the tide washes in more people. They end up selling two dozen CDs, more than they've ever sold before, and almost a dozen t-shirts. 

Tyler is ecstatic, bright and gleaming, but less manic than before, taking everything in stride. When Tyler gets back from a quick bathroom break, Josh makes grabby hands at him despite himself, despite everything he isn't supposed to be, and Tyler _lets him._ Tyler holds his hand. Tyler allows Josh to cling to him and lean on him as much as he wants. He even puts his hand on Josh's knee, squeezes it from time to time like he's transmitting some kind of secret code.

It takes way too long for them to talk to the fans, to pack up their stuff and leave the festival, but it does happen, and Josh's adrenaline has begun its descent. He's happy to let Mark book the hotel room, leaning into Tyler's side with his head on his shoulder. 

Tyler's been quiet since they got back from the show. He must be tired, too. Honestly, they all are.

They can't afford to each have their own bed, but nobody seems to care. Josh has to make himself shower, tired and hungry, but he does it. He showers, then sits on the edge of a bed and wolfs down a disgusting Clif bar and chugs some water before flopping onto the mattress. God, it's _comfortable._ The one they have in the van is so old.

Josh dozes on and off for about an hour, then wakes when he feels the mattress dip beside him. He opens his eyes, peeking through his eyelashes, really, just enough to see that the sun's gone down. He doesn't need to look to know who's just crawled into bed with him; even underneath the hotel shampoo and the too-clean sheets, Josh can smell _Tyler._ It's good.

Tyler turns out the light, and Josh shifts to press into his side. He's too tired to think, too tired to realize that he doesn't have the cold or a bad day to use as an excuse, too tired to stop himself from clutching at the hem of Tyler's t-shirt, mumbling his name into his pillow.

Mark and Michael are just in the next bed, but if they've overheard him they're too tired to care. Tyler stays still for just a few seconds before Josh feels his fingers card through his hair, once, twice, and he hums.

 _"Shh,"_ Tyler whispers, more of a comfort than a command. Josh falls asleep to the warmth of Tyler beside him.

*

Josh wakes to that same warmth when morning comes, slow and sweet like honey. Josh wakes to the warmth of Tyler's arm around his waist, the warmth of their legs tangled together and the warmth of Tyler's skin close to his. 

Josh's face is pressed into Tyler's shoulder, and suddenly he is _very_ awake, because this isn't touching because of cold or distress; it's touching for the want of touching. The want Josh _isn't supposed to have._

He can hear voices on the television, quiet and indiscernible, so someone must be awake besides himself. After a few moments, he realizes it must be Tyler. His breath is deep, but even, and yeah, _yeah_ Tyler is awake, because when Josh shifts he feels gentle hands pet his hair, just like last night. He's unable to stop the sigh from escaping his lips.

Tyler's hand stops moving. "You're awake."

"Um," Josh says, because he is very much awake and he kind of wishes he wasn't, just so he could stay here for as long as he wanted. "Yeah."

Tyler stays silent, and his hand stays still, but he doesn't pull it away or try to push Josh out of bed or anything, at least. "Everyone else awake?" he mumbles, because he isn't brave enough to ask if they're alone.

A laugh track plays on the television; Josh thinks it might be Seinfeld. "Yeah. Mark and Michael went to get breakfast and do a little shopping."

Josh's voice drops, barely above a whisper. "Oh."

They're alone together, in bed, which isn't exactly unusual for them, but Josh can't help the nerves squirming around in his stomach. He knows they're both shirtless, and it shouldn't matter, it never has mattered _this much,_ but now it does. 

"Tyler, do you ever-" Josh starts, and then he stops. _God,_ he can't _do this._

"Ever what?"

"Never mind," Josh mumbles, because he can't help it. He can't stop thinking about the look on Tyler's face if he told him about his feelings, not full of disgust or anger, no, but sadness, because Josh is his best friend and Josh knows Tyler would do anything for him, but he can't will himself to love him. Not in the way Josh wants to be loved.

"No," Tyler says, soft, then repeats himself. "No, not never mind." Josh tries to burrow his face further into Tyler's shoulder, but suddenly Tyler is touching his arm, warm but insistent. "Josh, please look at me."

Josh didn't want to cry yesterday and he doesn't want to do it now, either, but he lifts his head. It's mostly dark, save for a sliver of gold light snipping through the drawn curtains, but it doesn't matter, because Josh can see Tyler perfectly. Every line on his face, curving and twisting and turning to create a look of gentle concern. Tyler's eyes are dark but honest, and it makes tears start to well up in Josh's.

"I know something's bothering you," Tyler says, still in that soft voice that makes Josh's heart ache. "I've known for a while. I don't know what it is, but I know you've been kind of..." he trails off, and his eyes flick downwards. " _Clingy,_ the past couple weeks. Which is fine, but I'm worried about you. Y'know?"

Josh wants to laugh, almost. Tyler? Worried about _him?_ Josh isn't the one climbing higher than the sun, higher than the stars, without someone there to catch him if he falls. Josh isn't the one making Tyler flip the fuck out all the time, so full of worry and anxiety and love that he feels sick.

One tear finally spills over, drips down Josh's cheek and lands on his arm. "I'm sorry," he manages, voice cracking.

"No, hey, it's alright." And then Tyler's hand comes up to touch the side of his face, to wipe the tear trail from his cheek. "You haven't done anything wrong."

Josh's voice is caught in his throat, and he has to whisper his reply. "But I have."

"Hey, _shh_." Tyler strokes his cheek again, soft and good, before shifting on the mattress, laying down properly with the arm around Josh's waist pulling him closer. "C'mere, calm down. It's okay."

It isn't okay, it hasn't been for some time now, but Josh goes to him, just like he always does. They lay there together for a while, Tyler holding Josh and Josh sniffling, wiping away a few stray tears, trying to calm down. The television is a nice backdrop for the whole scene, and to distract himself, Josh tries to pick out all the different characters just by their voices. He's pretty sure it's Seinfeld.

"You can tell me. Only if you want," Tyler says at last. Josh had half hoped he would drop it.

Josh keeps his face hidden in Tyler's shoulder, still and warm and clean, because he can't meet his eyes no matter how much he knows Tyler wants him to. He tries to find a way to say it that makes it okay, that makes this a trivial little thing, but he can't, and it isn't. "Have you ever loved someone you weren't supposed to?"

A long silence. "Yeah. I have, yeah. Is that what this is about?"

If Josh closes his eyes, breathes slowly, he can pretend he's confessing all of this to a priest instead of Tyler. He can pretend it won't matter, that all will be forgiven, and they can move on with their lives together. "Yeah."

"Can you tell me who it is?" Tyler asks gently. But, no. Something is different in his voice. The way he says it, it doesn't really sound like a question he needs an answer to.

_He already knows._

He already knows, and Josh has to tell him anyway. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard, and mumbles, "You. It was always you."

And that's it. Josh's secret, breathed out into the air between them, hovering like a cloud above the bed. Josh should feel lighter, cleaner, but he doesn't. 

He hears Tyler swallow. "Josh, I-"

" _No,_ " Josh says, and this time he's the one to start talking, to escape from Tyler's arms, to sit up on the bed, shrinking into himself, like a dog that knows it's not supposed to be there. "I'm sorry. I didn't-" he trips over his words, "I didn't mean for this to happen. You're just, God, you're you. It was so gradual I didn't even notice until you started climbing during Car Radio. I'm sorry and I'll get over it and we'll never have to talk about this again."

There's something in Tyler's eyes like pain, like he hasn't taken a breath all morning and his lungs are giving out. Josh suddenly can't be here anymore; God, he can't be here when Mark and Michael come back. He'll throw on a shirt, go downstairs, cry by the ice machine or something. He doesn't know. It doesn't matter.

Josh waits for Tyler to say something, _anything,_ so he can carry it with him like a knife, to kill every soft or sweet or hungry thing Josh has ever felt for him.

'I can't believe this.' 'The band is over.' 'Get out of here.' Tyler says none of these.

Tyler says none of these, because when Josh starts to turn away from him, to slip his bare feet onto the floor and grab a t-shirt and get the hell away from here, Tyler moves. He sits up fast, sudden, reaching out, grabbing Josh's wrist, blankets falling from his torso like some kind of fucking Adonis, and he _kisses_ him.

Josh is so stunned, so confused, he doesn't react at first. He's physically aware of Tyler's lips on his, the fingers gently closing around his wrist, the closeness of their bodies, but there's a sort of delay.

Then oh. _Oh!_ Josh's brain catches up, and not a moment too soon, because Tyler has turned nervous, hesitant, starting to pull away. Josh can't let him go, not if this is all real, not if this is his only chance. Josh lurches forward, probably too quickly, because he almost falls into Tyler's lap, all in the pursuit of a kiss. He doesn't have to chase him far.

He doesn't really have to chase him at all, because the moment their lips meet Tyler is kissing back, moving back into Josh's space. Josh has always been the one to cling to Tyler, to try again and again to be near him, so it's almost shocking when Tyler clutches at the front of Josh's shirt, takes Josh's bottom lip between his. Josh feels like he's been shocked, physically, electrically, and he's trembling with nerves and excitement.

The kiss is warm and good and tells Josh everything he needs to know; that his feelings are reciprocated after all, that the band is gonna be okay and that Tyler wants Josh just as much as Josh wants him.

Everything is so insistent, so wonderful, that Josh largely becomes aware of it after the fact. When Tyler presses further, halfway straddling him, Josh abruptly becomes aware of his hands again, resting on Tyler's sides, warming the cool skin there. And when Tyler leans forward, Josh leans back, wanting to lay down, wanting to pull Tyler down with him, wanting to lay here and kiss Tyler forever, if they could.

They both need to stop to breathe, so they do, inhaling and exhaling in the small space between them, neither wanting to move away. Tyler is cradling Josh's face in his hands, earnest, sweet, breath on his cheek.

"Don't go," Tyler huffs. Josh wouldn't dream of it.

"Is this..." Josh can't put his thoughts together right, not with Tyler so close. "I mean. Do you mean it?"

"Mean this?" Tyler says, a hint of a smile in his voice, and his mouth connects with Josh's again, and it's so nice it sends a chill up Josh's spine. He barely even remembers the question when Tyler separates them again, smiling true against his cheek. "Yeah. I do."

"Can I kiss you again?" Josh asks, shy, quiet, and he can feel Tyler's grin widen, so close to his own.

"You don't have to ask."

*

Josh doesn't want to stop kissing Tyler, and Tyler certainly doesn't seem to want to stop kissing him, either. So they don't.

The time passes in such a strange way, too slow when Tyler pushes him back onto the mattress, too fast when he peppers quick kisses under his jaw. Josh thinks his blood might be on fire; it feels like it is, especially anywhere Tyler touches him, and Tyler touches him all over.

At one point they do have to stop kissing, stop being so close together, because they're both getting too hot and breathing too hard and _okay, yeah_ , Josh is getting pretty worked up and he's not quite ready to do anything like that, not yet, and Tyler seems to feel the same way.

So Tyler sits up, still straddling Josh, who gazes up at him with heaving lungs and says, _"Jesus Christ."_

Tyler has the audacity to laugh. "Is that a compliment?"

"Absolutely."

A smile, warm like sunshine and just for Josh, finally just for him, for certain. Tyler traces Josh's ribs absently; it kind of tickles, but he kind of likes it.

"What did you mean," Tyler starts, "when you said you weren't supposed to..." he trails off, and Josh realizes what he's trying to say. _Love_ is the word for what Josh feels right now, has felt for ages, and he hopes Tyler feels the same way. But now that nobody's arguing, or confessing secrets, it's somehow harder to say it.

"Oh." Josh exhales. "Well. You're my best friend...um." He's gradually realizing how exposed he is, not just because his shirt is on the floor but because he's trying to explain something to Tyler that he doesn't fully understand himself. "I didn't think you felt that way about me. Fuck, I didn't know I felt that way about you."

Tyler raises a brow. "Until I started climbing, yeah? What's that all about?"

Josh's face has been warm since they started kissing, but now he thinks it might be burning. "I was so scared you were going to fall, I couldn't stop worrying about it the whole show. And then after, when you were on the ground, I guess I was just glad you were safe."

"So that's why you've been so clingy." Tyler's smile broadens. 

"And you look pretty when you climb," Josh blurts out, then immediately dies from embarrassment. He swiftly hides his face in his hands, cheeks hot, and _oh God he just said that out loud, didn't he?_

"You think so?"

Josh peeks between the gap in his fingers. Tyler looks surprised for a few more seconds, then pleased. Josh wants to make him look like that all the time. "More than pretty," he mumbles into his palm.

"Oh really?" Tyler teases, and then he's leaning closer, hovering over Josh, pulling his hands away from his face, bumping the tips of their noses together. He's enjoying this way too much. "What's 'more than pretty'?"

God, Josh is so fucked. He can feel Tyler's hand slide down his side, settle on his hipbone. He swallows and manages to say, "Hot."

Tyler laughs, and then he kisses him, sweet and warm and open-mouthed and all the things Josh is afraid of, all the things he wants so badly that it's driving him _crazy._ Tyler's weight is more than welcome on top of him, and he deepens their kiss, thumb gliding over his hipbone. Josh groans into his mouth.

Then this: footsteps. Not just the people staying in the room upstairs, not just hotel guests passing by their room. _Real_ footsteps, talking, the sound of a _key in the lock-_

All this, and then the door to their room swings open, and he hears a familiar voice yelp "Jesus!" Tyler sits up just as quickly, moving off of Josh, who takes the opportunity to grab the blanket at the end of the bed and throw it over himself, effectively hiding himself from view. 

"We were gone for five fucking minutes!" the same voice protests; Josh would recognize Mark's shouting anywhere.

"It's been an hour," Tyler says. He sounds a lot steadier than Josh feels, considering their friends just walked in on them making out.

"Do you need us to leave?" Michael suggests helpfully. 

"No!" Josh says quickly from under the blanket. "No, it's fine."

Mark sighs deeply, and Josh hears someone set something on the little desk by the window. The smell of eggs and bacon and cheese fills the room. "Jesus, whatever, just get a goddamn room next time."

"You walked in, not us," Tyler chirps. A weight disappears from the edge of the mattress. "Josh, you hungry?"

There's so many different things on his mind; where to go from here, the show they have that evening, embarrassment, the feeling of Tyler's lips on his own. Food is nowhere in the mix. "Um, not really, no."

Tyler giggles, and Michael joins him; Mark doesn't laugh, but he can hear another sigh coming from his corner of the room, and it's funny, Josh supposes, that their friends knew how they felt way before they did. Hell, maybe everyone knew. The only ones who hadn't were him and Tyler, and... well. Now they do.

And shit, Josh only has red bull and that chick at that show and stupid-pretty-hot Tyler to blame.

**Author's Note:**

> u can follow me at my tumblr @bbluejoseph


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